One Last Mending
by LadyPhenyx
Summary: Jack's had his cape since he rose from the lake, but it's finally too torn to take another mending. So why is it so hard to put it aside and find something new? Whumptober Day 11: Stitches


Jack put another stitch in his cape and lowered it with a sigh.

This latest tear was...well.

He could mend it. His cape was more stitches than cloth, more tears than whole fabric, by this point.

Which was why it might not take this last mending.

Jack held up the cape again, holding it up to the light.

He'd been wearing it when he rose from the lake. From before he could remember. Part of him had known it wouldn't last forever when it could get torn like it could, and yet...

To give it up felt like giving up part of himself. A link to the past he couldn't remember.

Technically he didn't need it, the cold didn't bother him, but it felt good to wear it. To have its weight over his shoulders and swinging around his body.

What was he going to do now?

People didn't wear capes anymore. Well, some did, but they weren't popular like they once were.

So it wasn't like Jack could just find a new one. And as for making one...Jack was better with a needle than people suspected (another skill that he didn't remember learning but that his hands did) but he wasn't entirely sure he was up to making even a cape, should he manage to find the leather or fabric. What if he screwed it up? It wasn't like it was easy for him to get his hands on things.

Jack slipped the tattered cape back over his shoulder and took off to think.

It wasn't going to hold another mend, and trying was going to pull on the fabric more, possibly make it last that much less time.

-XXX-

Jack perched on the roof of a building, watching the people below with interest.

Clothing styles had been changing over the years, but he hadn't really noticed it until now. Why should he? About the only things he'd noticed was how it was loosening up, letting children play for longer and not putting them in restrictive clothing.

Still didn't count for roughly half of them, as it was hard to really play in the outfits their families insisted upon them wearing and then yelled at them for getting dirty, but still.

Maybe...he could find something yet.

Ponchos? Those were close to his cape, and yet...no, too restrictive, they were closed down the front and he needed his arms freer than that. He could cut one up the front and make it a cape, he could manage a basic hem, but...

Maybe he'd keep looking. He wanted to keep his cape so badly, replacing it with another one felt...wrong.

He was being silly, Jack thought as he landed on a fence to watch some kids playing, tossing a snowball into the mix now and again when it looked like things might die down or an argument was brewing. It was just a cape.

But...it was there when he rose from the lake. It was one of the only things he'd owned for nearly a hundred years, until he got sick of being a complete vagabond and made himself a home base so he could keep vagabonding but return to a den now and again.

So maybe he was a bit attached. It wasn't a crime.

Jack took off again, wondering what he'd do.

He drifted down low, tumbling to land on top of what he thought at first was a dumpster.

But it was full of clothing.

He glanced over at the building it stood behind, taking a moment to read the sign. "Huh. A clothing swap and donation?" he said softly. "Well, I need some clothes. I wonder..."

He bent down and rummaged for a moment. Most of it was, well...it should have been rags, and people should have been ashamed to donate it.

Then he pulled out a hooded sweatshirt.

It was blue, a good, solid, wintery blue, and Jack found himself craving it. It was ripped already, and fixing it would make it closer to his size, so Jack bundled it into his arms and took off.

-XXX-

Fixing the hoodie took more time than Jack had planned for. Sewing projects were always like that. It's just a hem, how long could it take? Days.

In the end, Jack did both sides the same, so that it bagged the same on both sides, rather than one side having a great deal of room and getting in his way while the other was just how he wanted it.

Even so, after a week of working on it, it was harder than he'd anticipated to take off the cape, to fold it up and put it in the small chest he'd made ages ago, knowing he'd likely never wear it again.

He should get rid of it, but he couldn't.

He should be happy for his new shirt, and he was. But as Jack closed the lid on his chest, putting away the cape, he couldn't help but feel as though some chapter of his life was being ended with the end of wearing the cape.

And that was always bittersweet, even if it was 'just a cape'.


End file.
